THE DIARY
by GhostfaceScylla
Summary: ONE SHOT When did DEATH come to be? Was it always there? And what exactly did Crowley and Aziraphale have to do with it? Another lesson in life: word choice is always important. Reviews and Flames quite welcome.


This just popped into my head. It's _interesting, really. Well, reviews and flames alike are quite welcome. _

Disclaimer: If I offend you, then I have made you think and I am happy. I do not own anything here except what is mine. 

THE DIARY

Dictation done by Kawai Lara-Chan, first in shorthand and then longhand.

Footnotes by The Grim Reaper, Stealer of Souls, Harbinger of Decay, and All Around Scary Anthropomorphic Personification.

            Really, the whole capitalization thing was not my idea. And after so many years, it became bloody annoying, always giving the impression that I was mad and all. Plus, can you imagine trying to figure out how to write a good threatening letter to a Japanese businessman (proprietor of more than just illicit goods) in _his language in all capitals[1]?  I may be Death, but I get tired of things like that, too. _

            Oh, sure, it wasn't always like this. Why, before I was the Intolerable Ender of All Life and a Horseman of the Impending Apocalypse (everyone needs a side job), I was just your regular Silent Night singing angel. But of course, there's all that alpha and omega stuff…y'know, everything and its opposite reaction? Well, you're staring at the ultimate opposite reaction, and it's a very tiring, dirty job to hold. Imagine being everywhere and nowhere at all, at once, and all the time. Not only do I not understand how that works, but it is terribly tiring. One minute, your metaphysical self is in some poverty stricken desert country tending to a nice dirty batch of decaying corpses, and the next thing you know, you're halfway across the world in Minnesota escorting Timmy's broccoli to the big Super Wal-Mart in the sky[2]. And can you imagine people laughing in your face all the time? Not only has it gotten way past old since the first time someone tried it[3], but now people think it's some kind of heroic gesture or something. Let me tell you, if you can laugh in the face of me, you're not brave, you're stupid. 

            But, like I said, I wasn't always here. All things come into being for one reason or another.

            And now I can hear your little gears turning inside your already ailing brain. You're thinking, 'what kind of imbecile would wish death to exist?'. Well, I'll tell you. It all began with one very annoyed woman[4].

            After the Fall Of Man[5], things started getting a little rough for the world's first couple. Before the whole "situation", as it was later aptly named, Adam and Eve had been quite a happy pair. But marriages are often stressed by the presence of reptilian creatures and evil fruits. And, believe it or not, the first man was a little bit of a clinger who needed a mother more than a wife[6]. 

"Evie?" He said one day while trying to remember the name of some curious looking plant.

            "…….."

            "Uhh…Eve?" 

            "Yes?" From the beginning of time, women have found pet-names detestable…unless they are using them on someone else[7]. 

            "It's nearing suppertime, my peach, are you going to make dinner?"

            Eve growled. She was in the middle of scrubbing one of her many, many kids in the river Euphrates and having a horrible time of it. The little bugger had more dirt in his scalp than hairs on his head, which was often true about the young mongrels at the beginning of the world. Adam was staring up at the sky_ again,_ contemplating his existence, and thoroughly enjoying the process of not helping her. She stood up abruptly, walked over to a nearby fruit tree and picked a banana. Walking back over to Adam, she promptly shoved it in his face. 

            "Hnnh." A primitive twisting of the word "here" on Eve's part.

            "Thank you, my darling, sweet, buttercup. My meadow flower! My-" he leaned in for a kiss. Eve turned around to stare at all of her children, the multitude of them…she DID NOT want anymore.

            "AACK!" and with that, she pushed him away from her[8]. He fell over with a clunk onto the forest floor.

            "But my pet, my desert lioness!" Adam grabbed onto her leg as she began to walk away, dragging himself behind her. 

            "Oh, will you just SHUT UP!" Eve gave him a sound kick in the head. "I'm going for a walk. ALONE. DON'T follow me!"

            "Alone? What is the meaning of this 'alone'?" but before he could ask her, she had disappeared into the jungle. 

            She hadn't been walking very long when someone started talking to her, a very unfamiliar voice with a light lisp. Or perhaps that was a hiss… 

"'S a needy bloke, isssn't he?" the voice began.

            "Quite!" Eve was very used to strange voices from the sky talking to her, it was practically a daily occurrence when you were the only people inhabiting the earth and God had nothing else to do but watch you. 

            "Alwaysss wanting _you_ to do sssomething for _him."_

            "Tell me about it!"

            "Doesssn't ressspect you a bit, doesss he? Wantsss to own you?"

            "How do you know all this?"

            "We've got to know thessse thingsss…thatsss how it goesss." And suddenly, a figure appeared out of the bushes crawling on his belly. His black eyes glowed with a flicker of yellow flame. "Ssssomething for your troublesss. Whenever you feel like you can't take it anymore, just give yourssself a little sssip."

            The dark figure extended a jug wrapped in sheep bladder toward Eve. "What is it?" she asked as she took it from hi-…umm…it. 

            "The drink of the Godsss. Sssour fermented grapesss. It will be our little sssecret that I gave you any, okay?"

            "Sure…okay…thanks…" Her confused expression delighted Crawly.

            "Now off with you, back home! And remember, a little sssip ssshould do you." and with that, Crawly soared away through the tree tops. A body dressed in a white robe, his golden curls bouncing about his head, seemed to be waiting for the demon at the top of the canopy.

            "I feel like I should thwart this, demon dear."

            "Aziraphale, what wasss that word you were talking about the other day? Ineffable? Well, thisss isss one of thossse sssituations. You cannot do anything about thisss becaussse it'sss in the inbetween ssstages. I'm not done wiling yet. You can't thwart before I'm entirely done wiling."

            "…Right." The angel sighed. "Ineffable. Fine, Crawly, we'll do it your way."

            "Oh, and Angel Dear?" 

            "Hmm?"

            "I'm thinking of a change of namesss…"

            "Really….?"

Meanwhile, back in the forest

            "Eve!" Adam sat on a large rock by the Euphrates examining his blazing sword. He was quite proud of it, even though he didn't know exactly what the angel intended him to do with it. "Eve, I'm hungry again! Fix me something to eat!" 

            Eve's eyes flickered red with malice. Her fists clenched into tight little balls and then hung at her sides again. Suddenly, she remembered the drink that the strange creature had given her. She took a small sip of the flowing red stuff, bitter as it was in her mouth, and felt nothing at all but a small rush through her body. The anger still clung tight to her, though. So, she went on and picked another fruit off of one of the many trees and handed it to Adam. The rest of the night when on as follows.

            "Honey, can you get me some more leaves for a new pair of pants?"

            GULP.

            "Thanks."

            A few minutes later.

            "Dearest, do we have any thread?"

            GULP

            "Thanks."

            "O wife, could you come cut this bark for string?"                     

            GULP

            "Thanks."

            "Sweetie, co-"

            GULP. "AHHH! Will you just LeaveMeAlone?!" Eve swayed as she stood above Adam, grimacing and holding the almost empty bottle of liquor. With each sip she had taken, her persona had become angrier and angrier until finally… "I can't TAKE IT ANYOMRE! Spending 'n 'ternity with you 's worse than…than… anything! You're bloody 'NOYING!"

Two celestial figures watched nearby. 

            "Thatsss it, Eve my dear. Now, jussst take hisss sword! Show him whosss the bosss!" An angry voice entered Eve's ear.

            "Is that really necessary, Crawly?" A more passive voice countered it.

            "Will you jussst hussssh? And I thought we talked about thisss. It'sss Crowley!"

            "Ahem…right…"

            "Ah! You're dissstracting me! Eve, take the sssword! There'sss a good girl!" Eve could not control her body from the power of suggestion. Wrenching the fiery sword from Adam's grasp, she held it above her head. The two members of Heaven and Hell commented on the scene like sports spectators[9]. 

            "Now, now, dear, that's mine, you know." A flustered Aziraphale tried to straighten his white wings while balancing on a nearby tree branch.  "Don't be a silly thing and just put it down."

            "Jussst a power trick, Eve. Now you've got the ungrateful bloke'sss attention! Now, just slice something nearby and prove your greatness over him!" Crowley would later comment on his lack of wording skill in this particular situation. 

            Unfortunately, both Aziraphale and Crowley had forgotten the number one rule of wiling and thwarting, and consequently, the number one rule of life. Alcohol and weaponry do not mix. Especially in the terms of a discontented product of an arranged marriage.

Eve was still holding the sword high above her head. "S'mthing strange s'coming over me. I have the oddest desire to…to… ha…ha…ha…ha…hahahahaha!"

SHING!

The sound of white hot metal slicing through flesh filled the onlookers' ears.

            "Oh ssshit." Crowley hissed.

            "Is that your-"

            "Oh ssshit!"

            "-idea of-"

            "Oh ssshit! What isss that red ssstuff?"

            "-how ineffability is supposed to-"

            "Why isssn't he regenerating?"

            "-work?"

            "Regenerate, damn it!"

Back up in heaven, all was peaceful and quiet. I, the angel now known as Death, was sitting on one of the many random clouds contemplating the best way to crush the bones of a jellyfish in as little time as possible[10]. I was never a particularly good angel. Instead of playing my harp in the heavenly Phil Harmonic, I was always wondering how to extract the sharp harp strings and do bodily harm with them. Not that there was anything horribly scary about that because there was no death, but the angels were getting quite annoyed at being awakened from their dreamy sleep by strangulation and having to find the energy to reincarnate. However, at that time, the morbid curiosity was just a habit. Well, as I was sitting there thinking, something caught my eye. It was the Archangel Gabriel running across the air towards me, his white robes flapping in the wind.

            "George!" What did you expect? Every angel has a name, and before I was Death, mine just happened to be George[11]. "George! I have orders from the top! The Man says he wants you to go down to earth and escort a human soul back up here."

            I sat down a crude steel weapon I was working on, which would later be called a halberd[12], and stared at Gabriel quizzically[13]. "What? I hardly think that's my job."

            "You better believe it is now! And you better get down there before the soul wanders off someplace and you have to search for it!" He noticed my surprised face. "Look, George, we like you and all," he rubbed some permanent red marks on his neck as he said this, "but the Man thinks your suited better for something…well….different… Something a bit more morbid. And this, this is perfect, what with the new developments on earth and all. They're not letting Adam live forever, and someone's gotta do the dirty work. Might as well be-" 

            "Might as well be me?"

            "…Right."

            "So you're throwing me out?"

            "Oh, not in so many words. It's sort of an in-between position. Sometimes you'll be up here, sometimes down there, sometimes who knows where? I should think you'll get quite buff with all of this running around you'll be participating in. 

            I laughed at the 'buff' part. It was hard to imagine my skeletal frame as anything but, well…skeletal. "And what shall I be called? Certainly you don't want me going around saying things like, 'I am George, here to escort you to the afterlife', do you? It sounds a bit silly."

            " Your name is DEATH." He even said it in such a way that one knew it was all capital letters.

            "Righto. Kind of catchy, really. Well then, off I go." And then I departed.

            That's right. The first instance of the Grim Reaper capturing a soul involved no black robes,  flaming horses, or even a lousy scythe. It was just one very confused, flustered angel in a white, however slightly dirty, robe flying down to earth to do something he didn't fully understand[14]. 

            And after the soul had been collected, that really should have been the end of it, as far as I was concerned. Things should have gone on just the way they had before, never ending life and all. 

But….

You see, heaven is very into traditions. And once they start something, they are not very fond of stopping it. Now, I'm sure that Eve did not know she was ending eternal life to all the things around her. But I am also sure that if she did know, it wouldn't have stopped her.

I can't really blame her, can you? When it came between choosing to spend eternity with one human being or eternity in hell, I don't doubt I'd choose the former. 

            And when one thinks about it hard enough, she really did all of you existing life forms a favor, didn't she?

            Ineffable?

            I THINK SO.  

  


* * *

[1] For those of you that are going to go rack your brains on this particular issue, it cannot be done.

[2] It is worth noting here that broccoli does in fact have a soul. Everything on this earth, from Tony Blair right down to the tuna tetrazzini you ate last Wednesday (which isn't really that big of a jump when you think about it) has one. And it always needs escorting somewhere. In fact, broccoli has the most talkative soul you will ever meet, alive or dead. Next time your mother or your crazy aunt Eunice fixes up a steaming vat, try saying hello and you might be pleasantly surprised. Some very famous people have got on quite well by talking to vegetables. See: Woodrow Wilson and the 14 Points, Britney Spears and the Hoochie Skirt, Harold Kleberstank and exploding soap…

[3] Many people think that this man was Julius Ceasar. But, they would be wrong. It was actually the soul of a very prosperous pimp in the Babylonian suburbs. And it did about as much good as throwing a very dry vermouth onto the flames of a rather large forest fire. 

[4] Of course, most thing do.

[5] Which must always be capitalized to disguise the fact that it really wasn't as terrible as He would have you believe. It bears mentioning that there is more fire and brimstone in a Vegas cabaret… better clothing too…then there ever was in the Garden of Eden. Except for that nifty flaming sword, now _that was menacing!_

[6] This trait was passed on in differing quantities to all men afterwards. 

[7] For the record, a certain demon would like me to bring up that pet names were his idea. Where else do you think "Zira" came from?

[8] And here we have the first instance of primitive birth control. Take that, biblical historians!

[9] Another first instance of its kind…unless you count God and His people watching, which can certainly be classified as a sport.

[10] A dollar to anyone who can name the answer to this quandary.

[11] Strangely enough, as the years go on, more and more people born and christened under this name seem to wield the uncanny power to wreak havoc wherever they go and leave me in their wake. See The Bush Dynasty.

[12] Think of a big burly Scandinavian. Now picture him running someone through. The weapon you imagine him accomplishing this task with is as close to a halberd as I can explain. 

[13] Contrary to popular belief, Gabriel was quite the kidder and he loved playing jokes on humans and angels alike. April fools was almost above Christmas for him. How else do you think the idea of Y2K came into being? But that's another story…

[14] So where did all of the other stuff come from, you may ask. The truth is, in this capitalistic economy fueled by the image of the perfect ghostly body, one has to modify one's image to save face with the humans and compete with the other pseudo-deity's around you. That's right. Even avatars have image consultants and usually change their style more times than Christina Aguilera ever even thought of. At first it was a bother, but I'm growing quite fond of the scythe. You wouldn't imagine all of its practical uses. And you probably shouldn't imagine them either, since most of them are quite a bit bloodier than Custer's Last Stand for the Calvary.

Well, there you go, folks! R&R! 'Till next time, toodles!

Lara-Chan


End file.
